Shepard's Gamble: Essence and Empiricism
by DarkAislinn2012
Summary: The Creators are just that: the Creators of everything. Or so they want everyone to believe... but there are those who know the truth, ones who have been lost though not quite forgotten. War has broken out, treaties have been smashed and Vanguards are feared. Humans are natural biotics and Shepard... well. Nothing is ever easy for Shepard.
1. Prologue

They told us they came to save us.

They told us they were the Creators of the Universe.

They told us they would end war and poverty.

They told us they could grant peace between us.

In the end, they brought nothing but war, bloodshed and tears.

They built us up to be their slaves, their puppets, to do their bidding at their whim.

Everything they told us were lies and we fed into it, believed them, because we wanted so badly to believe.

We were weak.

Now we are strong.

Now we fight.

Or die.


	2. Walking Dead

**2167**

The cold was slowly starting to seep into her bones. Her fingers were practically frozen solid as were her toes and her breath whirled around her head in white, shapeless clouds. She felt as if she were freezing to death, but she'd much rather be out in the snow and ice than inside her house listening to her mother's sobs.

"They're like goddamn concentration camps. I don't fuckin' blame her."

She looked at her sister, frowning. "How do you know?"

"I fuckin' hear things, A." Jack paused, her large brown eyes running over Aislinn's face for a moment. "You've heard the stories too, right?" For a moment Aislinn was taken aback by her sister's sudden worried expression. Jack normally kept her emotions, other than anger, to herself but for her to slip up, well, that was unexpected.

Aislinn sighed as she wrapped her arms around her knees, playing with the frayed hems of her jeans. "You don't think they'll do that to us, though, do you?"

"Of course they will. As soon as we turn eighteen the Guardians'll be knockin' on our front fuckin' door. And shit, our parents have to let us go, see, because it's part of the law. We'll never fuckin' see 'em again."

"I don't know about that. You really think the Creators won't let us see mother ever again?"

Jack cast a dubious look her way, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't fuckin' know."

Aislinn turned her head and looked out, watching as the snow fell onto the trees in the distance. "Mother should have let John go."

At that revelation, Jack sat up straight and forced Aislinn to meet her eyes. "Wait, she fuckin' said no?"

Aislinn nodded, her heart feeling heavy. Jack's eyes left hers and she leaned back again.

"Well, shit. That's not fuckin' good at all."

At this, Aislinn sighed and tightened her grip around her knees. "So say we all."

* * *

**2168**

"Wait – Aislinn just fuckin' slow down!" Jack cried angrily, reaching out and wrapping her hand around her sister's forearm, jerking her around. "What the fuck?"

"You made me look like a _fool_," Aislinn hissed, her eyes sparking in barely contained fury. Jack stared at her.

"Me? What the hell did I fuckin' do to make you look a goddamn fool? You did it to yourself!" Aislinn jerked her arm out of her sister's grasp, her body starting to tingle with her biotics. _No, not now!_ she thought frantically as her fingers gripped the strap on her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white, her nails dug into her palm so deeply she had bloody crescents. Her breath sped up and she tried to control her breathing.

"And how did I turn myself into the laughing stock of all of Grissom?" Jack barked out a laugh, tossing her head back and stepping away.

"You're not fuckin' serious are you? If you are, I have to question your fuckin' sanity."

The scorching impulse to tear her sister's head off was terrifying. Terrifying not because she had the impulse but because the thought alone caused a sickening warmth and flood of adrenaline to burst through her veins leaving her feeling light and free.

"As a matter of fact, yes I am 'fuckin' serious'! All I was doing was pointing out how the Creators have bettered our lives, how they've given us so much and we are – all of us – so ungrateful. But you," she spat, and that did it; unable to control her anger any longer, she slammed her hand into Jack's shoulder, blinking rapidly against the hot tears that burned the backs of her eyes, "_had _to make fun of me in front of the _entire_ school." She felt as if her head were splitting open. Her brained burned, tore and shrieked at her as if there was a creature trying to claw itself out and dominate her. The more she fought, the stronger the creature became.

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Jack shouted, shaking Aislinn from her ghastly thoughts. She rolled her eyes, reaching up a shaking hand to loosen her bun. "Of course I am!"

"Are you sure? What you're fuckin' sayin' is insane," Jack whispered fiercely, steering her sister off to the side. Aislinn looked at her, her eyes going wide and she quickly looked around to make sure no one heard what Jack had said.

"That's blasphemous!"

"It's the truth, A! A year ago you hated the Creators and now – now you talk about them like they are the best fuckin' thing ever." Aislinn jerked her bag higher up onto her shoulder, her eyes scanning the crowd desperately. Jack was being unreasonable and if she was unwilling to listen, well - then she was done with her and that was her immediate thought before she mentally shook herself and was appalled at her line of thinking.

"I have grown up and I now understand them. Look at what they gave us, Jack! Spaceflight, natural biotics, and peace!" Aislinn dictated passionately. Jack gaped at her as if she had just morphed into Lucifer himself.

"Peace? Fuckin' peace?" Angrily, Jack gripped her sister's bicep, jerking her around and forcing her to watch the vidscreen. She pointed to the news. "Does _that_, all of that death, look like goddamn peace?"

The vidscreen showed outrageous footage of a rebellion on some distant planet in the outskirts of the Creator's realm that the galaxy cared little about. Aislinn tried to look away, but she watched, transfixed, as a small, blonde boy staggered out from behind a billowing stack of thick, obsidian smoke. His face was covered in burns, most of them second degree and a lot of them third. His shirt was torn to shreds and covered in blood of all colors as were his jeans. Sluggishly he raised his right arm where there was no hand to be found. Instead, he was holding it in his left.

Aislinn anxiously brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear nervously. She let out a breath and collected herself before replying, "What you're implying-"

"I'm telling you the fuckin' truth, you stupid cunt! Does that little boy look like he is bleeding glitter and goddamn rainbows? Jesus Christ A, what the fuck happened to you?"

"If the Old Ones and the Collectors hadn't started fighting _against _the Creators, that little boy wouldn't be an innocent victim. If he'd come to Grissom then he'd have been able to protect himself! Jack when it comes down to it, what you're saying is – is blasphemy," she whispered savegly.

Jack stared at her. "No, what I'm saying is pure, cold, hard truth. You act like you _want _to go to HBTP." Suddenly, something clicked. Aislinn's attitude changed. Her body tensed, her face shuttering out her emotions, her eyes glazing over and her voice went flat.

"It is our duty, our obligation, to serve the Creators. I will gladly go to the human biotic training program on Rannoch." Again, her attitude changed. Her body loosened and she blinked, a look of confusion sliding over her face before she shook herself, her silver eyes focusing on her sister. "Jack, I have to get to the Citadel or I'll be late for work. You know how Lady Benezia gets when I'm late." She turned and walked off briskly, disappearing into the crowd.

Jack stood there, rooted to the spot, and was left wondering what was happening to her sister.

* * *

**2169**

The pounding of the sweltering water was a sweet release to her aching and weary muscles. She pressed the palms of her hands against the tiled wall and bent her head beneath the spray. She closed her eyes and breathed the humid air into her lungs, relishing in the heaviness. For once in a very long time she felt alive.

For a moment she was free and drifting on the warm, enveloping steam. Free from her racing thoughts, the tightness of her burning brain and the uncontrollable loss of her own consciousness.

Of course, now she was thinking about it all. It was painful; oh, so painful and heartbreaking.

She felt like a walker rising from the ash, trying to run but not lasting; doing things against its natural instincts. She was losing control of her mind. She couldn't separate which thoughts were hers and which weren't anymore. She was losing control of _herself_.

She was scared, terrified more like, and she had no one to talk to. There was nothing anyone could do to fix it and she knew that, accepted it. She knew it was the Creators, but how could she tell anyone about it and not sound like a crazy person or worse, a traitor?

She was the walking dead, darkness racing through her mind and she was caught in the fire. She had to breathe in the flames, eat the bitter ash and suffer through to survive. If she could survive, she thought bitterly.

She was either dead or alive, but couldn't decide which. Not when she couldn't _think_, _feel _or even _act _for herself.

More often than not she thought about surrendering to the creature that had clawed deep, bruising marks into her grey matter that left her reeling and breathless.

Seething, she slammed her fist against the tiled wall and the dark energy slapped against the slickness, the resounding sound was like a firework going off. The tile split and spidered under her knuckles, cracking and moaning before falling to the floor, catching her toes.

"Shit!" she cried out, jumping back and slipping on the wet floor. She tried to catch herself, her hand reaching out and feebly grasping for the rail, but failed. In a surge of anger and bitterness, she let her biotics flow through her.

They slithered through her veins, searing their way into her bones, snaking their way up and scorched themselves into her epidermis. They burned her skin as the blue hue of her natural vanguard biotics visibly danced their way over her and shot out, tethering around the railing and jerking her upright as she screamed in pain.

She laid her forehead against the broken tile, panting and trying to catch her breath. Quietly she sobbed, banging her fist against the cool wall. She hated being so vulnerable, so easily ruled by instinct that those _monsters _had 'blessed' them with.

She hated them with a passion so great it threatened to tear her asunder. Jack was right, so inevitably correct, but she couldn't say that. She was barely able to admit it to herself.

The creature lifted its head to scent the air and smirked in amusement when it realized that she was more vulnerable than she had ever been.

"No," she whispered, her fingers tangling in her hair and gripping it so tight that it brought tears to her eyes. "Not now, not ever. _Please_," she begged.

Satisfied, the creature reached out its massive claws to dig into her skull, slicing her open and leaving her bloody and broken.

The last thing she remembered before she blacked out was the dark feeling that was rapidly spreading through her.

She'd lost control.

* * *

**2170**

"I'll take that," came a deep flanging voice from behind them as a three fingered taloned hand plucked the smoking cigarette out from between Jack's long, slender fingers. If looks could kill, she would have killed him three times over.

Aislinn rolled her eyes, but spun around quickly. Cocking her hip and thrusting out her breasts, she batted her almost invisible lashes at the turian, her lips curling at the edges in a lascivious smile. "Instructor Kryik," she said softly, reaching out a hand and running it over his carapace. "It's free time. Surely we can," she paused, stepping towards the turian who was regarding her with something akin to lust, "relieve stress in any way that suits us?"

He stood there for a moment, his mandibles twitching, as he looked at Aislinn. Carefully he wrapped a hand around her bicep, her smile deepening and her eyes promising things that should be illegal, and cast a look at her sister. "Jack, might I borrow your lovely sister for a while?"

Jack snorted, disgusted by both her sister and their instructor. "Only if I can have my fuckin' cigarette back, asshole," she sneered.

He tossed the mentioned object at her feet, steering Aislinn away.

As they turned the corner, Aislinn looked back over her shoulder and winked at her sister. Jack shook her head, lighting the smoke, inhaled a deep and satisfying amount of nicotine while thinking, _This is some fucked up shit_.

* * *

**2171**

"You can't take me on," the dark haired girl called across the courtyard, smirking.

Aislinn tossed her head back, her lips pulled back at the edges in a dark smile, her eyes closed as she inhaled through her nose and shook out her long mane of fiery tendrils.

She relished in the searing surge of her biotics as they danced up and down her spine, coiled around her wrists and tightened at her ankles.

She dropped her head down until her chin was almost touching her chest, her silver eyes opening only to narrow and focus on her target. Not a single turian could break her focus.

She was ready and so was her target. "I'll take you to hell myself," she said as her lips pulled up at the corners in a smirk, her husky voice carrying across the courtyard to where Miranda stood, poised and ready to charge.

Their actions were instant and primally feral. They charged; their bodies surged forward and slammed into each other.

The swell of dark energy collided, undulated and erupted outwards. The sound was deafening, the noise analogous to a deep, angry rumble of thunder. The windows imploded, shrieking and shattering, the glass flying in all directions.

Aislinn crouched down, leaning over Miranda, and pressed her lips close to the girl's ear, "Don't _ever _tell me what I _can't _do."

* * *

**2172**

"Promise me you'll take care of her," her mother said, coming to stand beside Jack as they both looked out the window and watched Aislinn as she laughed, tossing her head back and hanging on two turian males, who gripped her waist possessively and were shooting daggers at the asari that was speaking to her.

Jack's eyes fell away from the unnerving scene in front of her, suppressing a shudder at her sister, and swallowed. When had she become so different? When had she changed and become someone that Jack didn't even recognize?

"You have to promise me, Jack." Their mother pleaded.

"I don't know if I can," she whispered, closing her eyes before a tear could escape. "I don't even know who she is anymore."

"It's the Creators." Her mother's soothing tone confirmed.

"They're not the-"

Immediately her mother pressed her hand against her mouth, shaking her head. "Don't, Jack. They're always listening; they know everything and see everything. You have to promise to protect her from herself, Jack. You're her sister, her blood, and you'll be going off with her to Rannoch. The Creators have seeded her and I don't know if you can bring her back from that, but just know it'll only get worse after your training has finished."

"I've tried protecting her from herself," Jack said softly, chancing a look out the window only to look away again.

"Try _harder_," her mother whispered vehemently. "She can't end up like your father."

Jack started, her eyes searching her mother's face. "I won't let her. I promise you. I'll do everything in my power to help her."


	3. Operation Eleutheria

Bright green avian eyes met blue human ones before sliding back to the screen, the turian's mandibles twitching with barely contained anger.

"She's strong," Harper said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long inhalation of the poisonous smoke. His eyes darted across the vidscreens in front of him, his lips turning down in a small frown.

"I know that, sir, but-"

"But nothing," Hackett cut off the turian, leaning forward and resting his hands on the desk in front of him as he too watched the vidscreens. "There. Rewind and hold at point three five."

"You did well, Agent," Anderson praised the turian, slapping his back while pointedly ignoring the flutter of irritation in the turian's mandibles.

"See that?" Hackett questioned, pointing to the frozen image of the girl whose lips were curled into a feral snarl, her body primed and ready to Charge at her enemy. "That is what we need on our side if we're going to be able to have a fighting chance against the Creators, as they call themselves."

The turian shook his head, clenching his mandibles tight against his jaw. "Why didn't we bring her here and train her? Look at her," he paused, fast forwarding the vid, "here. I don't know if we can bring her back from what they've done to her."

Anderson and Hackett shared a brief look with Harper before their eyes followed the turian's finger that was pointed at the frozen girl on the screen.

Her rose-colored lips were pulled up at the edge into an ominous smirk. Her electric silver-green eyes narrowed as her glowing fist sliced through the human's torso in front of her; the back of her hand coming out of his back. Clean, precise, and surgical. Minimal blood and tissue exposed. She was a deadly weapon, honed to perfection by the Creators. The thought disgusted him.

Harper looked away from the chilling image, tapping his cigarette on the ashtray and said, "Stick to the plan. Operation Eleutheria commences tomorrow at 0600. Make sure the team is ready."

* * *

"Target sighted, General. On your mark," Quentius' voice crackled quietly over the coms.

"Hold, my mark." He flipped his sights on, closing his left eye. "Mark. Visual?"

"Two o'clock, sir."

"Roger."

From this distance she didn't look dangerous. In fact, she looked small and fragile despite the dozens of data pads that had been tossed his way about _exactly _how dangerous she truly was and not to mention the time he'd been cornered by her which just about cost him his life. Her perfectly shaped brows softened the harshness of the charcoal colored eye makeup. As if sensing his thoughts, she looked up, her eyes meeting his crystal blue ones in the scope and for a moment he was worried, his finger automatically readying the trigger.

"That is the target?" Alenko asked, startling him out of his reverie, dropping into prone beside him and letting out a soft whistle. "Not bad. At all."

"She can also rip your head off before you blink," Williams quipped casually, casting a smirk his way.

"Marching battalion of Guardians, 500 meters at your ten. Hold position. I repeat, _hold_ _position_," Victus' deep rumbling voice, low and frantic, came over the coms.

"Cloaking, my mark," he said, lifting his hand high enough for his unit to see the hand signals. _Hold_. _Three, two, one. Mark._

"You think she saw us?" Williams whispered, shifting to the side of him.

"If she did, you'd all be fuckin' dead." He glanced towards the sound of the voice.

"Not you though." It wasn't a question, not directly, but more a statement of hard fact.

"No," she responded, after a moment of hesitation, and to be honest her revelation shocked him. She blew out a breath, moving into a more comfortable position. "I'd be dead too."

"But you're-" Alenko started to question but was quickly cut off.

"Doesn't matter. The moment she finds out I'm with Cerberus is the same goddamn moment I cease to be anything other than her fuckin' enemy."

"That's pretty fucked up. Isn't it, Skipper?"

"It is," he agreed. "But that's what they do to you and that's what they've done to her."

"Don't tell me you feel sorry for her, Vakarian," Sparatus spat angrily. "You've been hunting that soulless bitch for over a year."

"Things change when you know all the details. You'd be better to remember that, _Lieutenant _General," he said, irritation creeping at the edges of his voice as he tried to reign in his thrumming sub-harmonics, which were bleeding borderline fury at Sparatus' blatant insubordination.

"They've done more to her than you can ever fuckin' imagine, turian. She doesn't feel anything. She doesn't think for herself, she can't because it's physically fuckin' painful for her. If she has a memory, even a sliver of one, they pick her up, cart her off to some baren fuckin' planet and 'fix' her, because, you know, being fuckin' human is a goddamn fuckin' crime. Fuckin' heartless bastards," she heaved out, sucking in an angry breath.

He took a chance at looking at her and immediately regretted it. He'd never seen such raw emotional agony displayed so openly. He believed her when she said that he couldn't imagine, but he also couldn't even begin to fathom how painful it would be to watch your loved ones ripped from you and twisted into a feelingless being that only did as it was commanded.

"Did you train together?" He felt the words fall from his lips before he had a chance to think about what it was he was asking.

She paused, her brow knitting and her fingers sliding over the barrel of her shotgun, before sighing. "No. Vanguards aren't allowed to go through training with anyone. You're forced to be alone and you're not allowed any type of fuckin' communication at all. It makes sense, why they do it, but once you get to HBTP you're separated into groups by class of biotics. After, we, vanguards I mean, are separated according to 'biotic capability and strength'," she quoted using her index and middle fingers while rolling her eyes, "and then from there each of us is taken to our own room, basically a metal fuckin' box, for seven days to listen to the same, annoying, goddamn phrase with no food or water. I guess it's their way of breaking down the mind. If it doesn't work, then the training alone will fuckin' break you and turn you into," she gestured towards the silver-green-eyed woman not even a thousand meters from their position, "_that_. Something that was human and now is anything but."

As she talked, the squad grew solemn as the weight of what she said settled over them like dust after a devastating storm.

"What was the phrase?"

"Doesn't fuckin' matter." She stood up, dusting off her ass and looked down at where Vakarian was still lying in prone. He met her gaze, his mandibles fluttering against his jaw.

"You sure you can do this?"

Her gaze turned heated as she fingered her shotgun, her eyes narrowing. "Don't _ever_ fuckin' question me about this again. You're fuckin' lucky I'm on your side. I don't have a soft spot for turians like she does - did, whatever. Maybe that's why your fuckin' scaly ass is still alive, Vakarian," she paused, her brown eyes turning gold as her body began humming with her biotics and she searched out her sister, letting her gaze soften for the briefest of moments before shaking herself and looking back towards him. "As long as your lackies are ready to go on the Citadel then it's fuckin' show time, Scars."

He felt Williams shift beside him and his mandibles fluttered in irritation at both Williams' possessiveness, which was yet another issue altogether, and the vanguard's use of "Scars", which he hated, considering it was the target who had given him those scars to which the biotic referred. He'd tangled with the silver-green-eyed vanguard before and he was not looking forward to doing it again if this mission went fubar.

"They'll be ready," he barked out, barely containing his sudden surge of anger.

She winked at him, her body priming to Charge. "Show time."

* * *

Harper was there to meet them as soon as they touched down in the shuttle. He was radiating anger, but Garrus could hardly be bothered to care as he carried the limp form from the shuttle to the entrance of their underground facility.

"How is she?" he asked curtly, his eyes dancing over her sleeping face.

"Alive."

Harper nodded, tenderly brushing the hair out of her eyes. Tender, a word he wouldn't normally have associated with the older human male. "You know where to take her. I want to discuss what happened in exactly one hour. Meet me in the debriefing room." Quickly he turned and stalked off, leaving Garrus standing there awkwardly with the vanguard in his arms.

"Alenko," Garrus barked, turning to find the human sentinel. Kaidan looked up from the weapons crate, dropping the Carnifex and cranking out a crisp salute.

"Sir?"

"Take the sister to see," his blue eyes caught the brown ones of the other vanguard, giving a brief nod in her direction, "Asim. They'll have a lot to talk about." Again, Kaidan gave him a quick, clean salute and steered the vanguard away, looking back over his shoulder towards the deceptively peaceful looking human in Garrus' arms.

Garrus looked down at the copper headed woman in his arms and sighed. Turning towards the hatch and waiting for it to scan his retinas, he had a feeling that she wasn't going to be very easy to deal with.

* * *

"What exactly happened out there, Vakarian?" Hackett asked, rounding on him angrily as soon as the door slid open to grant him entrance. "It was supposed to be quick and no weapons, under any circumstances, were supposed to be discharged. Those were your orders and you disobeyed them. What the hell were you thinking?"

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but was unable to utter even a word before Harper cut in, saying, "Do you have any idea what could happen to us because of the stunt that was pulled on Thessia?" His blue eyes raked over Garrus' face, who was staring straight ahead, looking for a visible answer and after a moment he shook his head. "Of course you don't."

"It's not his fault," Anderson replied sharply, looking up from the console. His ebony brows were drawn over his charcoal colored eyes, anger sparking in them, which surprised Garrus. "We hadn't anticipated that Guardians would be there with her. It boils down to deliberate faulty intel and we all know who supplied us such intel."

A muscle began a quick ticking in Harper's jaw when he pursed his lips together in a quiet fury. His blue eyes flashed, his hand at his side curled into a fist. "Send Vega and Wrex to bring him in," he murmured softly, too softly.

Garrus might be a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. He didn't dare open his mouth to ask who the informant was for fear of being on the end of Harper's wrath. He'd seen his wrath before, though never directed at him, and it was nightmarish.

_"You afraid of anything, Vakarian?" Alenko had asked him as they sat in the armory cleaning their weapons after a particularly difficult mission. Difficult being a term he used liberally, considering nothing could ever compare to being caught in a one-on-one battle with Shepard._

_He paused, the greasy rag hanging limply between his fingers, and gave a leveled look towards Alenko. "Why do you ask?"_

_The sentinel lifted his shoulders and brought them back down in a slow shrug, the corners of his lips pulling down. "I don't know. Most wouldn't admit to being afraid of anything, but I'm not like most. I'm afraid of the Creators. I'm afraid of vanguards. I'm afraid that the next fight might be my last."_

_"I think everyone is afraid that their next fight will be their last. That comes with being a soldier, no matter the class or species."_

_"I guess." Alenko looked at him, curiosity lighting his caramel eyes. "Who are you more afraid of? Shepard or Harper?"_

_To be honest he'd never really given it much thought before as there was no need. He and Harper knew where they stood with each other. They didn't exactly like each other, but they respected one another, which sometimes meant more than personal feelings in a military setting. "I'm not sure," he responded, hoping to be finished with the subject but Alenko would have none of it._

_"Humor me. Would you really want to be caught in a fight with Harper or would you rather it be Shepard? Hands down, I'd rather go toe-to-toe with Harper. I see what Shepard did to your face."_

_Garrus unconsciously raised his hand to rub the mentioned side of his face. His blunted talons carefully traced the jagged lines of the scars over his cheek plate, down his jaw, across his mandible and back down his neck. The memory of it caused a surge of bitterness laced with hatred and deep respect. He also remembered that was the only time he'd ever been genuinely - desperately - terrified of anyone or anything before in the entirety of his life. That was the first and last time he'd ever faced off, almost quite literally, with a vanguard and he never wished to do it again._

_He dragged himself away from the haunting memory, dropped his shaking hand and picked up his abandoned rag. "If I had to choose, I'd choose Harper, too."_

He was torn from his thoughts as Harper quickly strode past him, his composure rapidly crumbling away at the edges as he tried to contain the storm that was swirling inside him. He paused, however, at the door. His fierce cobalt eyes looked up at Garrus. "When he gets here, I want T'Loak to deal with him. Understood?" Garrus nodded, bringing his hand up to salute but Harper was gone before he could even get his fingers locked together.

Hackett picked up his mug and tossed it across the room before spinning around and raking his fingers through his hair cursing. Anderson glanced at Garrus and nodded, "Dismissed."

He broke out a quick salute and headed out the door towards his room. As soon as he turned the corner he leaned his back against the wall, heaving out a sigh and grasped his armor around his cowl as if he could loosen it.

His hands dropped and he closed his eyes, replaying the events of what happened over again in his mind as if he could change them.

"Garrus?" Ashley was standing in front of him, clad in nothing but a towel that clung to her damp skin in all the right places. Her long hair, darkened by the water, curled around her hardened nipples seductively. He tamped down the swell of desire pooling low and hot in his abdomen, forcing his plates to stay closed. She reached out a slender, tanned hand to press it against his arm, her head tilted to the side curiously. "How'd the debrief go?"

Jerking her by the hand, he slammed his fist against the panel. The door had barely slid open and he was pulling her inside, lifting her up and settling her on the desk. "Goddammit, Ash," he murmured hotly against her skin, his tongue playing havoc with the spot on her collarbone as she made quick work of his codpiece.

Her hand delved into his undersuit and her slim fingers pressed against the seam of his plates to coax his cock out.

He leaned her back, pealing the towel off her body, and laved at her dusky nipples, bringing a hardened bud into his mouth as she pulled his cock out, giving two quick strokes and leading him towards her center.

He slid into her, buried to the hilt. His talons dug into her hips as he thrust in and out of her, watching her breasts bounce with the movement. Her hand delved between them, her finger rubbing in quick circles around her clit as she called out his name, her voice low and husky. "Fuck, Garrus," she groaned, leaning forwards slightly to watch as his cock slid in and out of her. She loved it when he fucked her with his armor on. "I-I'm so close."

She was so hot and wet for him. It was driving him insane. He ground out her name, jerking her hips upwards and slammed into her, trying to go as deep as her tight cunt would allow his cock. He knew the signs of her orgasm, they'd fucked enough times, and he leaned forward to brush his lips over her pulse point. She cried out, wrapping her fingers around his fringe and jerked his head up so she could kiss him as she came.

The muscles in her cunt flexed and spasmed around him, as her tongue danced in his mouth. He pulled his mouth away to bury his face in her neck, riding out his own orgasm as her cunt milked his cock.

Quietly he pulled away and bent over to pick up her discarded towel. He handed it to her, avoiding her eyes and began to fix his armor.

Ever since their relationship ended, this was the way things were between them. Slight conversation and sex. They'd agreed on a purely physical relationship to ease stress and tension while maintaining their friendship.

As she turned to leave he stopped her by saying, "Ashley?" She looked over her shoulder at him, a small smile on her lips. "Don't touch me like that again when we're in the field. I don't belong to you."

She held her towel up with her left hand as she gave him a mock a salute, her smile widening as she said, "Roger, General Vakarian."


	4. Creeping in Corridors

Even through the sound proofed room she could hear the screams that were being viciously ripped from her sister's throat, as if watching wasn't bad enough already.

"Jesus," she said, her hands curling into tight fists by her sides. "Don't you think she's fuckin' had enough already, asshole?"

"Do _you_, Jack?" Harper countered, turning his head to look at her with an arched brow. She opened her mouth to speak, but at the last minute snapped it closed. He smirked, turning his attention back to the writhing red head. "So I thought."

Minutes that felt like hours crept by and Aislinn's screaming progressively rose in decibels until Jack was shaking with fury.

In an animalistic rage Jack slammed Harper against the two-way mirror, her lips pulled back against her teeth as she snarled, "That's _enough_! Fuckin' stop or I'll tear your ass apart so fast your fuckin' buddies won't know what happened, you piece of shit!"

His men moved to handle the situation but at his raised hand they fell back. He cut the man at the controls a look and instantly Shepard's screams died down into sobs that wracked her slender frame.

Jack released her hold on him and quickly turned towards the door that led into where Aislinn was being kept.

He watched as Shepard's eyes, pupils dilated, turned towards her sister, a sardonic smile gracing his features.

"This might break her for good," Hackett commented quietly as he went to stand next to Harper.

"I'm counting on it."

* * *

"Traitor," she hissed, twisting her bloodied wrists against the metal that held her down and trying to turn her head as far as it would go to look at her sister. "Always the traitor, Jack. Though this," she huffed out with a bitter laugh, "this takes the cake."

"Aislinn, please. Let me help you," Jack begged. She dragged a metal chair across the floor and positioned it in front of her sister.

"Always weak, never strong," the red head taunted in a sing song voice, a smile overtaking her soft features.

"Listen to me-"

"No! You listen!" Aislinn shouted, her face contorting into rage bordering on murderous, her green eyes flashing bright silver. "You drag me to Cerberus, help them fill me with drugs, watch as they torture me, and you have the audacity to act as if this hurts _you_? You betrayed me to the enemy. Partners don't do that; they are supposed to have each other's six, but it doesn't matter now. I _will_ kill you. No matter what."

"The Creators killed mother. The ones you fuckin' love so goddamn much murdered her."

"Lies. Always lies. You never can stop, can you?" Her face contorted, her mouth opening in a silent scream, tears streaming down her face but it only lasted a second and then she was laughing, deep and throaty as if nothing had happened. Jack stared at her, breathing in deeply through her nose and blinking back the searing tears pooling at the corners of her eyes.

Shepard's back arched off the table in a grotesque bend before slamming back down, a trail of wine colored blood dripping from the back of her neck when she turned her head, matting her hair into thick clumps. She screamed, thrashing her legs against the hard steel beneath her.

"It burns! My brain," she panted, "is on fire! Make it stop, make it stop!" She let loose a blood curdling scream that instantly froze Jack's insides.

The door burst open with men in white coats spilling in. Hackett lifted Jack from the chair as she screamed at them. "What's wrong with her?! No!" She tried digging her nails into the wall when he pulled at her. He lifted her up and swung her over his shoulder, ignoring the sobs coming from her throat and her hands pounding against his back.

"You can't help her right now," he said as the door slid shut and locked behind them.

"What's wrong with her? What are they doing to her?" she cried, trying to look over his shoulder through the mirror despite it being darkened. She looked back at him, her eyes wide with worry for her sister. "What did you do to her?"

"We did nothing. They - the Creators - are trying to locate her through her amp and when we shocked her," he paused, taking in a deep shaky breath and raking a hand through his short, dark greying hair, "it overloaded trying to compensate for the signal they sent out to ping her location. We cut it before they had a chance to narrow it down."

Jack stared at him, her mouth open slightly, and tried to control her biotics that were thrumming through her. Her eyes narrowed, turning golden as her biotics pulsed around her hands. "We don't have amps. We're natural goddamn biotics."

His eyes roved her face for a moment. "You don't remember?" he asked softly. His tone was so quiet she almost missed it.

"And just what the fuck am I supposed to fuckin' remember?"

"Every vanguard that goes through HBTP is outfitted with an amp to increase biotic power and cybernetics to make you faster, stronger, and more agile. You're strong, Jack, but if you can't remember that..." He trailed off and turned towards the darkened two-way mirror. When he turned back she pressed her fingers against her temples before dropping her hands to lay her palms against her stomach, her breath leaving her as the realization of his words made impact on her like an asteroid slamming into Mars and shattering into a million tiny pieces.

"Then what else don't I remember?"

* * *

His head whipped to the side as Aria's blue hand made contact with his cheek. He spit a combination of saliva and blood onto the floor, gritting his teeth against the pain. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

"You thought you were smart," she whispered against his ear. "Trying to play us. But," she laughed as she pulled away and turned towards the table of instruments towards her left, "not smart enough. At least Lawson managed to slip through our fingers but not you. Why is that?"

Slowly she picked up the curved blade, twirling it in her hands. When he didn't respond, she pressed it against his bare chest. Carefully she drew the tip down his sternum, a faint line in its wake, before resting it against his quivering abdomen.

"I mean, with all of your expertise, you were the last one we thought we'd catch. You're like a slippery fish. Fast but still dumb enough to follow the lure." Without removing the blade from its position, she crouched until she was at eye level with him. "This can all be over if you would just cooperate and give us the intel we need, Krios."

"Go to hell," he hissed before spitting in her face.

"_Not_ the answer I was looking for."

* * *

Liara turned towards the quiet knocking, a smile gracing her painted blue lips at the corners, making her way to the door. It never mattered how many times she told him he didn't have to knock; he always did. It was oddly comforting and heartwarming.

"You don't have to knock," she teased, smiling warmly at him as the door opened. He arched a brow plate at her, flicking his mandible outwards in a smile.

"It's polite," he answered, stepping inside and reaching for her hand. "This apartment isn't mine, now is it?" She shook her head, giving a soft laugh and twined her fingers with his.

"It can be."

"Now that's quite the offer. Is a young asari maiden ready to settle down with an old turian bachelor like myself?"

"Just kiss me already, you old man," she whispered, leaning up on her toes to meet him halfway. She sighed into him when his plated lips touched hers, her fingers curled into his tunic. She pulled back, smiling at the soft groan that left his throat and looked up at him. "I was worried about you."

His eyes narrowed, his head tilting to the side. "Why were you worried?" She scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning away from him.

"Really? As if the whole Underground didn't know what you were doing," she sighed angrily, spinning when he touched her arm in concern. "Kidnapping Shepard? You can't possibly think those were good orders, Adrien."

His mandibles pulled close to his jaw in an effort to keep his emotions in check as he stared at her. Adrien Victus was a lot of things, but he was not a bad a turian. "You're telling me that I should have _disobeyed_?"

"No, never," she amended quickly, laying her hand on his arm. "I-I just... I could have lost you. Every day that we see Garrus is a vicious reminder of the brutality she's capable of. I couldn't stand it if you got hurt," she paused, drawing in a shaky breath, "or worse."

He sighed and pulled her against him, tucking her face against his neck and lightly trailed his fingers over her back. "Oh, dragostea mea, don't waste your time worrying about me. I might play fast and loose with strategy, but I only go so far. I respect Vakarian. I trust him implicitly and vice versa. Neither he nor I would ever do anything to put each other in harm's way, so when we're ground side, always know that I _will _be coming back."

Tilting her face up, he pressed his forehead against hers to try and convey just how much her words meant to him. He'd been bonded before, even had a son, but he'd never loved his bondmate the way he loved the woman in his arms now.

To say that he'd never loved Adriana would have been a lie, but it was not a bond out of love. It was of mere convenience, a strategic move. They were both highly intelligent, believed in the same ideals, and fought with everything in their bones. It was a good match. When Tarquin turned fifteen Adi had passed away, suddenly and violently. He was unprepared for the insurmountable feeling of loss, but it faded quickly.

Not long after his son was sent off to training, Cerberus came knocking on his door. He'd been deliberate in his decision making. Turning traitor to everything was not something to be taken lightly and Hackett had been understanding, more understanding than most gave him credit for, but to speed his decision he'd brought in Garrus, who'd sugar coated nothing and spoke directly. He'd liked that.

_"Look, Victus," the blue marked turian said, flipping his chair around, splaying his arms across the back and sat down. "You can sit here wallowing and doing nothing or you can actually fight and do something useful. We need more bodies. There is only so much we can do, but you know others who can be useful allies. I'm offering you a chance to be a part of something, to change history, and it's up to you."_

_"What about my son?" The blue marked turian met his gaze with a level stare before blinking and sharing a look with the human._

_"He'll be taken care of, rest assured. You'll have your own apartment to do with as you see fit, you'll have no restrictions on communication but under no circumstances can you tell him, until you feel he is trustworthy, what you do or who you work for. The choice is yours."_

Liara's arms wrapping around his waist pulled him from his reverie. "I know. I'm sorry," she murmured, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

They stood like that for a few minutes until he remembered the reason that he was there. "Any luck with your own mission?"

She sighed, puffing out air, and shook her head, stepping out of his embrace. "Not as much as I'd like. It's much more time consuming and frustrating then I care to admit."

He followed her into the kitchen, sitting down at the bar and poured himself a drink of brandy. "Have you found anything at all?"

She opened the cabinet and paused for a brief moment. "I found a lead. It's small," she said, grabbing a glass and setting it down on the counter, "but it is something."

"What kind of something?"

"For starters, I think the Collectors can travel between galaxies via FTL." He gave her a dubious look. She sighed and sat across from him, pulling up her omni-tool. "I know how it sounds, trust me, but we knows others can do it."

"How did you find out about this lead?"

"How do you think?" she asked, raising an arched brow before turning her eyes back to her omni-tool.

"You think it wise to send them?"

"It wasn't my decision to make," she answered flippantly, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Since you asked though, yes I do. They can infiltrate where we can't and it's proved useful so far."

For a moment he sat there, staring at the amber liquid swirling in his glass and contemplating what she'd shared with him. "Let's say that what you've discovered is true. Perhaps they have mastered FTL in ways we can't. Where did they get the technology? Someone had to give it to them and I don't think the Creators would be very forthcoming with that information."

"Not the Creators, no. The Old Ones perhaps," she murmured quietly. She sighed, took a sip of her wine and continued to gaze at her omni-tool. Her painted brows suddenly drew down over her cobalt eyes. "Maybe I've been looking at this all wrong. What if they built a mass relay to another galaxy?"

"How would they hide a relay? I'm not saying you're wrong, but we're missing something. Where are the infiltrators?"

"Perseus Veil. That's why they were sent and not Tali or Kasumi." She sighed and rubbed her eyes, letting out a soft moan. "Either way, I've already filed my report - including my loose hypothesis - to the Generals. We'll see what happens."

He reached across the table to link their fingers together, giving her hand a squeeze. "I love you," he said softly. She smiled at him and stood. She made her way around the bar and went to stand between his legs, running her free hand across his cheek and down his mandible.

"And I love you." She leaned forward to press her lips against his but his omni-tool pinged. She sighed, resting her hands on his shoulders. "Who is it this time?"

He glanced down. Interesting. "Garrus. It's important."

"Will you be back tonight?" He smiled and nodded. He stood up and made his way to the door but her sudden look of illness stopped him.

"You should take it easy. You'll figure it out, love."

She laughed and shook her head. "That's not what it is."

He gave her a curious look. She arched a brow at him and pressed her hand against her belly with a smile.

* * *

Quietly he opened the door, glancing over his shoulder to guarantee no one had seen him. When he was confident that he was alone he stepped inside, locking and encrypting the door behind him.

Thane lifted his head and tried to identify the intruder but it was too dark for his swollen eyes to make out anything specific.

"What did you tell them?"

Male. Turian. "What did one snowman say to the other snowman?" Thane asked suddenly. If it was a trap-

"Smells like carrots," the voice answered. Good, he wasn't Cerberus or at least he was a spy.

He knew that voice - he'd heard it before - but he couldn't place it. "Nothing," he croaked. He spit blood onto the floor and shifted to try and ease the pain.

"Are you absolutely certain?" After a moment he nodded and the turian seemed satisfied. The turian stepped closer, reaching out and gently lifting his face so he could look at him. "Who interrogated you?"

"I don't know. An asari," he said. The turian scoffed and stepped back, rummaging in his pockets for something.

"That could be anyone. This might sting, but it'll take the pain away," he muttered, pressing his cool fingers against Thane's eyes. The turian sighed. "I have to go. I'll try and get you out."

"Wait," Thane said, his throat burning. "What do I do if they come back?"

The turian, however, was already gone.


End file.
